Dog of Doom
by pacejunkie
Summary: Hurley has a bizarre run in with Vincent.


Title: Dog of Doom

Rating: G

Summary: Hurley has a bizarre run in with Vincent. Humour

Disclaimer: Of course they're not mine. Would I be here if they were?

The path was deserted as Hurley tread it, sauntering from the beach to the caves in no particular hurry. Hardly anyone went to the caves anymore, except to load up on water that was a bit cleaner and fresher than that swill they collected in their beachside catch basins. No one minded at first; it sure beat a mile long trek through the heart of darkness, and Hurley had never been too fussy about what he put into his body. But when he saw those dead gnats and the thin line of film coating the top of their water supply, a bacterial breeding ground, even Hurley had balked. It was time for clear, fresh water from a mountain spring. Suddenly a little hike seemed like just the ticket. Hurley set off for the caves with his empty bottles to be filled.

His CD player had died weeks ago, so Hurley had taken to singing songs in his head for entertainment, the old fashioned way. He stopped short his silent tune when Vincent, Walt's Yellow Labrador, suddenly crossed his path.

Hurley exhaled the breath he held when he saw it was just the dog. "Dude, you scared me" he said.

Vincent looked at Hurley and in a clear male voice said, "The numbers Hurley, I need you to use the numbers."

"Aw crap" said Hurley, "no way. Dude you're a dog, you can NOT be talking to me. Go chase your tail or lick yourself like normal dogs do."

Vincent didn't move but continued to stare at Hurley. When the dog didn't say anything further, Hurley took his cue to leave. "Okay, man, I mean dog, I'm just gonna pretend you didn't say anything and go on my way. This is me leaving" said Hurley and he slowly inched past Vincent on his way to the caves.

Hurley's heart skipped a beat when he heard Vincent call after him, "The numbers Hurley, I need your help."

"You need a freaking exorcist" muttered Hurley as he kept walking, using all his strength to not look back.

Hurley collected his water and returned on the path back to the beach. He was dismayed to find that Vincent wasn't giving up. There he was again, on the path, with no one else around for Hurley to prove to himself he wasn't going crazy.

This time Hurley spoke first, "Look dude, I'm not helping you, because if I like, do, it will mean I really believe a dog is talking to me, and I don't think I could handle that, alright? So just give it up."

Even as Hurley said the words he realized he was being ridiculous. He was talking to the dog already, so obviously he believed what he was hearing. Hurley didn't want to even consider the implications of that, so he prepared to leave with a few parting words.

"Got nothing to say for yourself this time? Good. Asta la vista, pup" said Hurley as he went.

Hurley wasn't surprised to hear that now familiar voice, "I'm not going away, Hurley. Not until you help me."

_Of course you're not,_ thought Hurley, and he realized he may need to find himself some backup. It was no fun being crazy alone.

When Hurley arrived on the beach he started looking for Charlie. He thought if he could just prove to someone else that Vincent was talking he would have verified proof of his own sanity. His little English pal could be a skeptic himself sometimes, but still he was the closest thing Hurley had on the island to a friend, and at that moment he really needed someone to believe him.

"Hey, dude" said Hurley, greeting Charlie, who was sitting outside his tent with his guitar that never seemed to leave his side.

Charlie returned the greeting. "Hey, mate. What are you up to?"

"Well" started Hurley, already flinching at how this was going to sound, "I kind of could use your help."

Charlie put down the guitar and waited. Hurley continued, "I need you to follow me into the jungle to see……something."

Charlie was clearly intrigued. "See what?" he prompted.

Hurley shrugged and looked up at the sky, "Nothing really, just a……talking dog." He then looked back down to gauge Charlie's reaction.

It wasn't good. Charlie smiled, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, he laughed and said, "Are you off your head?"

This was going to be harder than Hurley thought. His tone turned serious, "**Just listen to me. **Dude, I know the lottery story was a little hard to believe, but you have to trust me on this, man."

"You're right, I'm sorry" said Charlie, still chuckling, "A talking dog is much more sensible."

Hurley was starting to regret he'd chosen Charlie for this revelation. "Alright dude, I consider you a friend, right? But right now, I really want to hurt you."

As ridiculous as the story sounded, Charlie could see that at least Hurley was serious about it. Hurley could tell that at the very least, Charlie's curiosity was peaked enough so that he couldn't pass him up.

Charlie stood, his hands raised in surrender, "Alright, show me the sodding dog."

The two set off on the path back to the caves. Hurley's head swung back and forth like a pendulum scanning the tree lines looking for Vincent. Just when he thought he wouldn't appear, suspecting it was a conspiracy to make Hurley feel like a loon, there he was. Vincent had crossed their path in the same way he had done earlier with the same appraising stare.

Hurley was so excited he took Vincent's mere presence as proof. "There what did I tell you?" he said, pointing to the Lab.

Charlie was confused and looked at Hurley with a trace of concern. "Hurley, that's just Vincent. Last I checked he didn't speak, apart from the occasional bark."

"Hi, Charlie" said Vincent.

Charlie's eyes opened wide and he slowly turned his head to face the animal that he had just said did not speak. Charlie couldn't decide whether to answer him back, but Vincent apparently took his stunned attention as enough of a cue to continue.

"The numbers, guys. I need you to use the numbers" repeated Vincent.

"Use them where?" asked Charlie, recovering his senses.

"Follow me" said Vincent, and he turned and headed off into the jungle. Hurley and Charlie exchanged glances and went off after the dog. The animal moved quite a bit faster on four legs, and they didn't want to lose him when there was a mystery to be solved.

Vincent reached an area of dense ground cover and stopped. Hurley nearly knocked Charlie down when the smaller man came to a dead halt in front of him. They watched as Vincent started clearing away the brush at their feet with his nose. Then Vincent looked up at them and Hurley realized he was asking for them to pitch in. Hurley bent down and began pulling away the vines and leaves that covered the spot on the ground.

After a moment, Charlie knelt and pitched in too. They stopped when they saw something that certainly did not belong to mother nature. It appeared to be the door of a square safe with a combination lock on the front, the kind you see in old movies behind picture frames on walls. After it was unearthed, they looked at Vincent. Hurley was hoping for some more guidance, although strange as it sounded, things were starting to make more sense.

Vincent spoke again, this time using the same words with which he had first introduced himself to Hurley. "Use the numbers, Hurley."

"Aw no" said Hurley, shaking his head as he stood and backed away, "No way man. Those numbers are cursed. I'm not doing it."

This time it was Charlie that spoke. He turned and whispered to Hurley, "Hurley, you've got a bloody dog talking to you. Don't you think whatever he wants it would have to be important? Don't you want to know what's in there?"

"I already know what's in there, dude" said Hurley, "mayhem, death, destruction."

Charlie was nonplussed. "Well I didn't come all this way out here not to find out. I'm going to open it" he decided. With Vincent waiting patiently, Charlie turned and crouched down to the safe and began turning the lock, using the numbers that they all knew by heart. Charlie began calling them out loud as he turned the dial so he wouldn't lose track, "4…8…15…"

Hurley turned away, cowered on the ground and closed his eyes with his arms over his head and ears. He was regretting bringing Charlie into this. Ever since he won the lottery with those same numbers Hurley felt cursed and bad stuff always happened to those around him.

Charlie recited the last number. Then Hurley waited for some apocalyptic sound. Instead, all he heard was the squeak of the rusty hinge as the door to the safe was opened. Hurley turned his head, opened one eye and dared a look. There was Charlie, still alive, squatting next to the safe, this time with the open door in his hand.

He was peering in and trying to see what the safe contained. Hurley took tentative steps closer and looked down. It was dark. Too dark to see, and there was no way he was going to stick his hand down there. Hurley was glad to see that even Charlie wasn't that stupid. Once again, they looked at Vincent.

The dog stepped closer and stuck his nose inside the opening. He fished around for a while and pulled something out with his teeth. The dog dropped it on the ground at their feet and Hurley and Charlie found themselves staring at a rubber squeak toy, in the shape of a T-bone steak.

"Thanks", said Vincent. The dog picked the toy back up in its mouth, causing it to let forth a tiny squeak, and then hustled away.


End file.
